


tender spooning: the jemma simmons story

by falsealarm



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsealarm/pseuds/falsealarm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A.K.A. Five times Jemma Simmons was the little spoon and one time she wasn't. Established Jemma/Daisy/Bobbi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tender spooning: the jemma simmons story

**Author's Note:**

> Story is not beta-read, all mistakes are mine and I'll fix them eventually. Special thanks to [pirateygoodness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness) for letting me talk OT3 all the time. She wanted spooning and I gave her spooning.

_(one)_

There’s nothing fun about quarantine, never has been, never will be, especially when the lab’s run out of scrubs in her size. When Jemma gets out of the contamination shower, which is far colder than it should be, she’s presented with a set of fresh clothes that make her look like a frumpy paper bag.

And Bobbi can’t stop laughing at her.

Jemma furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms over her chest, the material scratchy against her skin. “You’re not allowed to laugh at someone when they’re in quarantine, Barbara, it’s not polite.”

Bobbi’s laughing hiccups to a rocky stop but it doesn’t stop her from biting her lips in a smile. “Sorry,” it’s not sincere, Jemma can tell.

“Bobbi,” Jemma reprimands in a kind of half-whining tone that immediately makes Bobbi’s smile ticks up a notch. She scrunches her nose in what Jemma recognizes as Bobbi holding in more laughter and Jemma prepares for the worst.

“You,” Bobbi starts then stops and takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly before the smile on her face is replaced by an even-tempered pursed lip. “You’re right, it isn’t polite, I’m sorry, Dr. Simmons.”

“Bobbi,” Jemma knows this spiel and she won’t be having it, “how much longer until I can come out?”

“The contaminant has been sent to an offsite lab for testing, results will be here shortly, Dr. Simmons.”

Bobbi says _Dr. Simmons_ with such smug attitude that Jemma can only throw her head back in exasperation. When she levels her head again she takes a step forward and narrows Bobbi with the most serious expression she can manage. “ _Dr. Morse_ , how much longer until I can come out?”

Bobbi perks an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth quirks but she doesn’t drop the attitude, “shortly, Dr. Simmons, we’ll have you run a few tests on yourself while we wait for the results.”

The huff of air Jemma lets out fogs the glass between them and Jemma stares daggers at it. “That sample has been sitting in the lab for months, it’s practically inert by now,” Jemma huffs to herself as she turns around to take a seat on the bed, hooking herself up to the proper monitoring equipment. Preliminary readouts are normal save a slightly elevated heart rate that is 100% caused by Bobbi making eyes at her through the glass.

There’s a ring at Bobbi’s hip and she pulls out her phone, turning away from Jemma to answer it. After a few hushed words Bobbi hangs up and turns to Jemma with more worry than Jemma would like.

“Okay, there’s good news and bad news.”

“The good news is that I’m not dying,” Jemma answers pre-emptively.

“The good news is that you’re not dying,” Bobbi repeats with a nod, then continues, “the bad news is that they need to run more tests.”

“How much longer, Bobbi?” Jemma had things to do today, tests to run and reports to finish, _scones to bake_.

“A few hours?” Bobbi says in a tone that is far from sure, her voice high in her throat. She pockets her phone and takes a step back towards the glass, “Sorry, Jemma.”

Jemma unclips and then resettles the heart rate monitor on her finger, traces the edge of the smooth plastic and sighs before replying, “At least I’m not dying.”

\---

A half hour later Bobbi’s sent in her tablet with a few snacks and Jemma settles into getting as much work done as she can. She ignores Bobbi, for the most part, who’s decided to stay in close proximity working on reports herself at a lab bench just outside the quarantine cube.

“We can talk, you know.” Bobbi says after a couple of quiet minutes.

“I’m only talking to you if you stop smiling every time you look at me.”

Bobbi slips on an easy smile, “But you’re cute.”

There’s an eye roll, long and hard, before Jemma replies, “That’s not why you’re smiling.”

A wider smile, “Of course it is.”

Jemma just hums in response and makes to readjust herself on the bed, her scrubs scrunching up around her neck and ballooning in response.

Bobbi lets slip a chuckle.

“Liar,” Jemma pouts as she flattens out her top, Bobbi loosing a couple quieter laughs behind her hand.

\---

An hour later Jemma’s done about as much work as she can manage on just her tablet so she tucks into her snacks, eating her crisps one by one as she stares at the clock on the opposite wall. She’s meant to have finished and turned in two reports ten minutes ago but there’s still been no word from the offsite lab and she’s starting to get antsy.

“Hey Jemma, Coulson needs me for a few minutes, do you want me to send Fitz in to keep you company?”

“A few minutes?”

“He wants me to talk him through a report you sent in last week.”

“Do you have to?”

“Well he is the Director.” Bobbi takes the few steps forward to reach the cube and leans her shoulder against it. “No Fitz? I could always send in Hunter,” it’s a total tease, Jemma would kill her and Bobbi knows it.

“No, thank you,” Jemma starts, working at the edge of the crisps bag in her hand, “it’s, well,” she swallows, “do you have to leave?”

Bobbi smiles and narrows her eyes, index finger pointing at Jemma through the glass, “so you _do_ like having me here?”

“Of course I do.”

“Does that mean you’ll talk to me now?”

“Only if you stop laughing.”

Bobbi holds up three fingers to the glass, “Scout’s honor.”

\---

Two and a half hours later and Bobbi has only laughed twice (and her meeting with Coulson has been postponed). One was warranted of a Fitz anecdote but the other was met with a grumpy scowl and soothed over with apologies and puppy dog eyes that Jemma wishes didn’t work but do so on a regular basis.

A ring from Bobbi’s pocket has Jemma jumping up from her bed and Bobbi from her chair, now perched beside the cube. Bobbi doesn’t turn away and hangs up almost immediately, her face unreadable.

“Good news and bad news.”

“Again?”

“The good news is that you can come out of quarantine.”

“And the bad news?”

“Is that you didn’t need to wear those scrubs at all.” Bobbi’s eyeballing the scrubs again with a cheeky smile.

Jemma rolls her eyes but smiles and stands up from the bed, smoothing out her crinkly mess of clothing as Bobbi makes for the door. She punches in a code and a swift whoosh of air hits Jemma as it pops open.

\---

Jemma makes for her bunk first to shed her paper prison but instead Bobbi steers her towards her own bunk.

“Bobbi, I need to get changed.”

“I know.”

“Bobbi this is your bunk.”

“I’m well aware, Jemma.”

Bobbi gives Jemma a little shove inside and then shuts the door behind her and starts rummaging around in her dresser.

“I do _have_ clothes in my room, you know.”

“I know,” Bobbi answers as she pulls out a set of clothes that look more like pajamas than what Jemma had expected to be putting on. “But I thought you’d be comfier in these.”

Jemma pulls up the shirt, unfolding it to find the blue prints to the Millennium Falcon, the lines worn by time and many a wash. “Really?”

“Come on, for me?”

Jemma rolls her eyes and sets the shirt down, making to pull the scratchy scrubs off when she feels Bobbi’s hands over hers, shooing her own away. The scrubs are discarded completely first leaving Jemma nude save her underwear, the hem of which Bobbi fingers as she moves to grab the clothes she’d set out. She helps Jemma into the pants first, comically long on Jemma, excess fabric bunched at her feet and then the shirt. Again too large but it’s comfortable and smells like Bobbi so Jemma doesn’t mind one bit, especially when her head pops out of the head hole and Bobbi immediately moves in for a kiss, sweet but firm as her hands smooth the shirt down over Jemma’s torso.

“Much better,” Bobbi whispers against Jemma’s lips.

“A bit big.”

“Nah, just perfect.” Bobbi nudges Jemma backwards until she hits the bed then urges her to climb on top of it. Jemma obliges and Bobbi quickly kicks off her shoes and follows her, “turn around.”

Jemma hums in response and puts her back to Bobbi who immediately cozies up to it, tucking an arm under the pillow at Jemma’s head and throwing the other over Jemma’s side. Jemma laces their fingers together and scoots back against Bobbi, warm and soft behind her.

“I’m starving, you know,” Jemma says.

“Daisy’s bringing back a pizza.”

Jemma brings Bobbi’s hand up to her mouth and kisses her knuckles, “you’re a dream, Bobbi Morse.”

“Yeah, I know.”

 

 

_(two)_

“Can you do mine too?” Daisy has her back to Jemma when she speaks, her voice muffled against the sound of already running dryers as she drags a bag the size of herself into the laundry room, it’s a full body task. “Mack and I are leaving tonight and I don’t have anything clean.”

Jemma rolls her eyes and turns back to her own laundry, starts pulling out her socks and tossing them into the empty washer in front of her. “And why don’t you have anything clean?”

“Because I forgot to do my laundry.”

Jemma looks up from her laundry again to finally look at Daisy and lets out a surprised snort of laughter. Daisy is wearing a pair of bright teal leggings, inside out, and the Hooters shirt she bought as a gag gift for Bobbi last year. After another full body sweep and this very cute but very pitiful look from Daisy, Jemma answers, “only if you promise to come back and fold.”

Daisy abandons her bag and bounds over to Jemma, practically picking her up in a hug, “thank you!” She kisses Jemma’s cheek before returning to heft her bag up onto the table. “Text me when you need me.”

“Technically I need you now,” Jemma mumbles as she continues sorting through her own laundry but Daisy disappears out the door with a smile and a bounce in her step and Jemma can’t really be mad at pep like that, can she?

Jemma ends up throwing most of Daisy’s clothes into a load by themselves because there’s no safe way to wash her blouses with Daisy’s combat gear. She’s in the middle of folding her first dried load when Daisy pops back in, brow brimming with sweat and a water bottle to her lips.

“Need me yet?”

“Not quite, your clothes are in the dryer now.”

“Sweet, could you just bring everything back to my bunk, please? It’s crazy hot in here and I really, really need a shower.”

“Only because you said please.”

Daisy disappears with another kiss to Jemma’s cheek and Jemma sets to folding her own clothing again. She drops her own things back at her bunk before loading Daisy’s into her bag and carefully winding her way through the halls to Daisy’s bunk, only narrowly avoiding dropping the behemoth of a load once.

There’s a muffled “come in” through the door when Jemma knocks so she maneuvers her way through with as much grace as she can manage. After closing the door behind her, Jemma lowers the bag enough to see the room and instead finds Daisy toweling off her hair at the foot of her bed, stark naked.

“Daisy!”

Daisy doesn’t look up. “Don’t _Daisy_ me, I knew it was you.”

“And if it hadn’t been?”

“Then I wouldn’t have said ‘come in’, duh.”

“Well you should be more careful.”

There’s a creak from the door as Bobbi pops her head in, looking to Jemma before sliding into the room, “careful about what?” Bobbi’s attention quickly shifts to Daisy who’s still toweling her hair, hip cocked to the side, a big smug smile on her face. “Oh,” Bobbi’s smile instantly mirrors Daisy’s as she clicks the door shut behind her, “I mean Coulson’s pretty lax on rules but I think workplace nudity would be frowned upon.”

“It’s not the workplace, it’s my room.”

“You should still be careful,” Jemma admonishes again as she drags the bag of laundry up onto Daisy’s bed.

Daisy immediately upends it and digs around for fresh clothing but only manages to slip on underwear before Bobbi slides up behind her. “You don’t have to be careful now,” Bobbi whispers to the skin of her shoulder, kissing her nape as she hugs Daisy from behind.

Jemma watches the skin of Daisy’s neck flush and she knows exactly where this will be going if she doesn’t intervene. “But you do have to fold your laundry.”

“It can wait,” Daisy answers, her voice already a little breathy as Bobbi’s hands start to wander.

“Wait,” Bobbi’s lips loose from Daisy’s skin with a slight pop as she pulls back to look at Jemma, “did you do her laundry?”

Jemma’s eyes narrow, “yes?”

“You little con artist!” Bobbi’s hands slip from Daisy’s hips as she backs away, moving around to stand next to Jemma, arms crossed at her chest.

“Oops?” The smile on her face is sheepish, sure, but in no way does she look ashamed of herself.

“She called me in to help her fold,” Bobbi finally says as she and Jemma watch Daisy pull on a tank top and a pair of joggers. “ _I’m super busy, Bobbi, can’t you help? Just this once?_ ”

Jemma shakes her head, “Oh you’re in trouble now.”

“So you’re not gonna help me fold either?”

“Not now!” Jemma crosses her arms over her chest and leans against Bobbi’s side, trying to mimic her as best she can. There’s solidarity in numbers, if they both refuse she’ll have to do it all herself.

“But there’s so much,” it’s _the whine_. The “I can’t possibly do this by myself” whine. The “does that mean you don’t love me” whine. The “make Jemma Simmons feel incredibly guilty for ever thinking she could refuse her girlfriend” whine.

And so of course Jemma caves, slowly turning to sort through the mess for only a few short seconds before Bobbi follows suit because the whine works on all girlfriend fronts. Daisy moves in a few seconds after her, leaning against Bobbi who in turn leans against Jemma. Daisy gets what Daisy wants.

Halfway through folding Bobbi hip checks Daisy and she manages to fall over so gracefully that she knocks over two piles of clothes in her descent. There’s scolding from Jemma and apology kisses to the cheek and then folding commences once more. By the time everything is all folded and put away Jemma is lying back on Daisy’s bed, fingering the edge of her blanket. “When’s the last time you washed your sheets?”

“When’s the last time _you_ washed my sheets?” Is Daisy’s response.

“Daisy that was 6 weeks ago!”

“Oops,” Daisy bounds over to the bed and launches herself at Jemma, bouncing twice before cuddling up against her side and tucking her head against Jemma’s chest.

“I’m not washing your sheets.”

“I’ll wash your damn sheets,” Bobbi says as she slides onto the bed behind Daisy, tucking herself up against her back and looping her arm up and over Daisy to grab at Jemma’s hip, nudging her to follow suit.

Jemma obliges, turning onto her side and scooting back against Daisy who’s instantly readjusted to nuzzle at the back of Jemma’s neck, breath warm against Jemma’s skin.

“You guys are the best.”

“And you’re the worst,” Jemma counters, lacing her fingers with Daisy’s as Bobbi’s hand falls to squeeze gently at her hip.

 

 

_(three)_

There’s a bug going around the base, the flu or a cold or a mix of the two and it’s taken hold of Jemma and shaken her about just enough that getting through her day is more of a feat than it should be. She’s been sicker before, surely, with food poisoning and pneumonia once when she was 10 but there’s something unsettling about the way this illness has seeped into her.

The main lab has been quiet all week with most techs down for the count and Fitz quarantining himself in his room keeping busy with theories and leaving the practical for when there are a few less germs about. Even Bobbi’s been out doing May knows what for the past week, inadvertently saving herself from the sniffling horror show the base has become.

Daisy’s been out five days on mission with Mack so that leaves Jemma on her own, brain foggy and body aching as she rummages around the lab trying her best to keep as close to her scheduled week as she can. She’s managed to run the few tests she’d prepped for the day but her reports are another story. She can’t decide on a starting point or find the data she needs, a table won’t format correctly and she consistently blanks on phrasing she’s meant to be using. She’s on attempt four of the day when she types, deletes, and retypes the word “endive” instead of “enzyme” and decides to call it quits for the day.

Jemma’s halfway to her room, feet shuffling against the ground, when she hears a familiar voice at the end of the hall. “Jemma!” A careful spin around and she’s met with Daisy, a warm smile on her face and a bag slung over her shoulder.

Jemma manages a small wave, “I didn’t realize you were getting back today.” Daisy jogs up to meet her and plants a quick kiss to her cheek which Jemma tries to shy away from but is too slow. “I’ll get you sick.”

“Sick?”

“The whole base is a hot zone, you should’ve stayed out.”

“Well too late now,” Daisy answers. “Why aren’t you in the lab?”

“I couldn’t focus, I think I might take a nap.”

“Can I join?”

“Only if you don’t complain when you get sick.”

“Pinky promise.” Daisy sticks out her hand, pinky extended and after a smile Jemma does the same, locking them together. Before Jemma can pull back Daisy readjusts so they’re holding hands completely and then starts leading Jemma down the hall again towards her room.

Once they’re inside Jemma starts shedding her clothing, a trail from the door to her dresser where she pulls out a tee she’s borrowed from Bobbi to throw on. She’s halfway into bed before Daisy is even out of her boots, sniffling and coughing her way under the covers. Daisy joins her after, bare thighs warm against the back of Jemma’s own as she slides up behind Jemma, arm over her side in an effort to pull Jemma closer to her.

“You’re always so warm,” Jemma says, wiggling backwards to get a comfier fit against Daisy.

“Only because you run cold,” Daisy counters, nuzzling at the back of Jemma’s neck and breathing in deeply.

“If you’re sick in the morning you can’t get mad.”

“I know, I promised.”

“Wake me up in an hour.”

“Who says I’ll be awake in an hour?”

“Daisy,” Jemma gives a wiggle of protest and Daisy just laughs into her hair.

“I’ll try my best,” Daisy leans up to place a kiss on Jemma’s shoulder then nuzzles in again and pulls Jemma up tighter against her, threading her free hand with Jemma’s

 Jemma brings their joined hands to her chest and sighs, “good enough.”

 

 

_(four)_

Jemma is only half awake when she feels the bed shift, the comforting heat at her back replaced by the cold rush of carefully conditioned air. “You can’t leave yet,” she whines into her pillow, voice thick with sleep.

Daisy’s voice is farther away than Jemma wants it to be. “I promised Mack I would work out with him.”

Jemma half turns towards Daisy and finds her already dressed in workout gear, hair in as much of a ponytail as she can manage. “You promised me that we could sleep in.”

Daisy turns around, unbundling the socks in her hand, “I did not.”

“You did in my dream.”

Daisy rolls her eyes and moves to lean against the dresser so she can slip on her socks. “Since when do you sleep in?”

“Since you promised me we could sleep in.”

“I didn’t promise that.”

Jemma turns over and buries her face in her pillow, groaning into it before mumbling, “Dream Daisy is nicer than you.”

There’s the sound of socked feet sliding against the floor before Jemma feels Daisy crawl back into bed, carefully turning Jemma to lay her on her back so Daisy can straddle her hips. “Excuse me?”

“Dream Daisy is nicer than you,” Jemma repeats, trying to wriggle her way down further under the covers but Daisy’s thighs grip her hips harder as she leans down over Jemma, hands falling to either side of Jemma’s head to support her weight.

“Did Dream Daisy call in Bobbi as replacement snuggler?”

Jemma stops wiggling, “no.” A beat and then she looks up at Daisy to find her much closer to Jemma’s face than she was 5 seconds ago. Daisy closes the distance between them slowly, kissing Jemma softly once, then twice before Jemma starts wiggling again in an effort to get her arms free.

She’s almost got one loose when there’s a creak at the door and Jemma hears, “and here I thought she’d be upset with you.”

“She is,” Daisy says against Jemma’s lips before she pulls back and in one swift motion leaves Jemma’s lap and the bed. She gives Bobbi a quick peck on the lips before grabbing her sneakers and heading for the door, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“We’ll still be here,” Bobbi says as she slips into bed, snuggling up against Jemma who’s more awake than she wants to be thanks to Daisy and her dumb apology kisses. “Turn over, let’s get to cuddling,” Bobbi demands, poking at Jemma’s side as she rotates her.

Jemma wiggles against Bobbi’s hips in an effort to settle herself but when Bobbi’s hand slides under her shirt and splays across her stomach Jemma gets a pang of heat low in her belly. “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Oh yeah?” Bobbi whispers against Jemma’s shoulder, nosing at the fabric to expose a little skin. When she gets some free she kisses the patch softly, fingertips moving gently against Jemma’s torso, up and down, up and down.

Jemma hums in response.

“I’ll be sure to thank Daisy when she gets back,” Bobbi says between kisses, tongue laving at the skin of Jemma’s neck as she moves closer to the nape.

“Screw Daisy,” Jemma replies, hips starting to cant a little against Bobbi’s.

Bobbi laughs softly in her ear, “Right now, I’d rather screw you.”

Jemma gets out half a groan of annoyance before the hand at her stomach slips beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts and then reprimanding Bobbi’s horrible joke is the farthest thing from her mind.

\---

When Daisy returns an hour later the girls are still in bed, Bobbi curled possessively around Jemma, asleep to the world and stark naked beneath the covers. Daisy is not surprised.

 

 

_(five)_

_Netflix and chill??_ Is the text Jemma receives from Daisy, her phone chirping from the lab bench. As far as Jemma knows, Daisy is still off base and will be for the next two days, comms dark, so the text is a bit of a surprise.

  
    


\---

The lab holds Jemma captive for the rest of the afternoon with a mix of general paperwork and a slew of test runs of Fitz’s new probes, quicker and stealthier than the last batch by miles. By the time she’s finally finished with work and ready to call it quits Daisy is waltzing in to greet her, paper bag in one hand, a 6-pack in the other.

“You’re a saint.” She’s halfway to Daisy before Daisy can speak, leaning her forehead against Daisy’s shoulder as she wraps her arms around her waist in a loose hug.

Daisy lets out a soft laugh, “I missed you too.”

“Fitz wouldn’t let me leave,” Jemma grumbles into Daisy’s neck, shuffling forward to hug her a little tighter.

“Want me to beat him up?”

“No,” Jemma nuzzles at Daisy’s neck, “he’d just make _me_ run his tests instead.”

“Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

Jemma reluctantly lets go of Daisy as she turns then trails behind her all the way to Bobbi’s room. “I thought we were going to mine?”

“Bobbi’s tv is bigger,” Daisy counters, punching in the code to the door.

They slip inside and Jemma heads straight for the bed, toeing off her shoes before crawling to sit right in the middle. She brings a pillow into her lap and then up to her nose, inhaling deeply as she hugs it to her chest.

“Um, excuse me, this is my night,” Daisy tuts as she sets the beer by the bed and toes off her own boots. She tosses the bag of food at Jemma’s lap before climbing up and nudging her to scoot over.

“It smells good.” Jemma squeezes the pillow a little tighter as Daisy reaches for the bag, opening it up and rummaging through its contents.

“Don’t I know it,” Daisy counters. The bags contents are slowly deposited on the bed, napkins under each item and Jemma is delighted to find Daisy’s brought home tacos.

“A little variety, look at you.” And really, any takeout that isn’t pizza or cheeseburgers is variety nowadays, Daisy has a problem.

“Mack’s idea, actually,” Daisy reaches over to the side table to grab the remote for the tv. While she gets Netflix up Jemma starts in on her tacos, the Styrofoam box in her lap packed with 3 street tacos, still warm despite the travel time.

Jemma is one taco down by the time Daisy gets Netflix up and running and when Jemma looks up at the screen she finds Jane Fonda halfway out of her space suit. “Really, Barbarella?”

“I mean we’re in Bobbi’s room, it’s only fitting.”

Jemma lets out a snort of laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. “Daisy!”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t see it. Man, that would make such a good Halloween costume.”

“Well,” Jemma pauses and watches the screen again. Barbarella’s answered her videophone completely nude and honestly, from the back, it kind of does look like Bobbi. Jemma is more than a little amused. “If we found a costume do you think she’d wear it?”

“Oh we could totally get her to wear it.” Daisy grabs a couple beers from the floor and pops them open, handing one to Jemma as she continues, “I mean no guarantee she’d wear it out but she’d definitely wear it for us.”

“And that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Jemma says, taking a long pull from her beer.

“Of course,” Daisy answers with a big smile.

Their tacos and first beers are finished in rapid succession and quickly followed by a second beer each. Daisy gets up to quickly dim the lights before getting back in bed and pulling Jemma back against the pillows with her. She moves Jemma’s arm around her shoulders and then snuggles up against her, laying her head against Jemma’s chest.

Jemma makes it through her second beer and about halfway through the movie before she starts getting distracted. Daisy’s got a hand under the edge of her shirt, unmoving but warm against Jemma’s skin. “Daisy,” Jemma whispers.

Daisy’s fingers stretch against Jemma’s abdomen, “hmm?”

“Are you still watching the movie?”

Daisy’s head shifts against Jemma’s chest, tilting up to look at her, “I mean Barbarella just had sex with an angel, why wouldn’t I be watching?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Daisy’s hand stretches again, fingers moving to trace along Jemma’s hip bone and Jemma’s muscles flex in response. “ _Oh_ ,” Daisy repeats. She shifts then, instantly up on her knees and then she’s straddling Jemma’s lap, both hands at Jemma’s hips. “And here I thought we were just going to watch a movie.”

Jemma’s hands go to the tops of Daisy’s thighs, smoothing up them as she leans in to kiss her, warm and slow. “Who needs a movie when you can make out with your girlfriend?” A second kiss and a third in quick succession has Daisy smiling against her lips.

“We’re going to miss Bobbarella outsexing the orgasm death machine,” Daisy whispers between kisses, hands smoothing up Jemma’s abdomen, toying with the edge of her bra.

“If you start calling her that she might kill you,” Jemma hums as she noses down along Daisy’s neck, leaving a string of kisses from jaw to hollow.

“We should really find that costume,” Daisy licks into Jemma’s mouth and Jemma hums in response, greedy hands pulling at the waistband of Daisy’s pants.

“I’ll look tomorrow, I promise.”

The end of the movie comes unexpectedly, the light from the screen dimming as the black credits screen starts rolling. Daisy is the first to come up for air. “We missed it.”

Jemma’s eyes are hooded and her lips are swollen, her whole body’s vibrating and for a second she kind of forgets where they are. “Missed it?” She echoes, one hand still perched at Daisy’s breast.

 Daisy sits back and Jemma’s hand falls to her lap. “The movie, we missed the whole thing.”

“You actually wanted to watch it?”

“Of course I did, why’d you think I put it on?”

“Background noise?”

Daisy beams Jemma with a cheeky smile before leaning down again and kissing her lightly, “well it had crossed my mind.”

“We could watch it again, if you really want.”

“But will you be able to stay awake?”

And on cue Jemma yawns, long and wide. She’s warm now, heavy from the alcohol and heady from Daisy’s kisses, the feel of smooth skin under her hands. “No guarantees,” Jemma finally answers because suddenly she is so very tired, the day catching up with her all at once.

“How about I watch and you stay awake for as long as you can?” Daisy moves slowly from Jemma’s lap, crawling under the covers and pulling them out from Jemma so she can get in too. Jemma tucks up against’ Daisy’s side, settling in with an ear against her chest as Daisy rewinds the movie back to where they’d detoured.

Jemma watches until her eyes grow too heavy to stay open, Daisy petting her hair and occasionally kissing the top of her head. She listens until she passes out and dreams of Bobbi in tight latex, an outfit that has nothing on her usual combat gear but is not nearly as sensible.

She wakes to darkness a few hours later with Daisy tucked up against her back and a hand inside her shirt, semi-fisted in the fabric. Daisy snores lightly behind her and if Jemma is still long enough she can feel Daisy’s heartbeat against her back, steady and unwavering.

 

 

_(one)_

Jemma wakes up slowly, ears then eyes then arms then legs. She stretches out, feet dipping into the colder part of the bed, the part that should still be sleep-warm. Jemma sits up a little, hair wild across her face and turns to look behind her.

The bed is empty and it most definitely should not be.

“Daisy?” Her voice is gravelly with disuse, tongue heavy in her mouth. “Bobbi?”

No answer.

The sun is warm against her face, bright, morning sun, white on the wood floor. It takes Jemma a second to remember where she is, vacation, she’s on vacation and it’s Saturday, it’s her birthday and her bed is empty.

“Daisy,” it’s a little more of a whine this time, a touch louder and this time Jemma hears a response. Well she hears footsteps in the hall and then the door creaks open and there they are, Daisy and Bobbi with party hats on their heads holding a tray each, piled high with food that smells all kinds of delicious.

“Happy birthday!” It’s in unison and a little too loud but their smiles are both bright and they move to the bed quickly and carefully.

“Up, up,” Bobbi urges and Jemma reluctantly pulls herself from beneath the covers to a sitting position, adjusting pillows behind her back.

“You guys,” Jemma finally says as Daisy and Bobbi climb into bed, setting the trays in front of them. There are candles in a stack of pancakes, just a couple but they’re very colorful and sparking, wax slowly dripping.

“Make a wish!” Daisy urges, leaning into Jemma, looping an arm with hers and holding Jemma’s hand between both of her own.

Jemma wishes and blows and the candles withstand as candles often do so she blows again and then again until finally they’re out. “What time did you guys wake up? You’ve made so much.”

“Well I woke up at 6,” Bobbi answers with a pointed look at Daisy.

“And I woke up not at 6 because you were very cute and I didn’t want to leave you.” Daisy kisses Jemma’s cheek and Bobbi just rolls her eyes.

“Suck up.”

Daisy sticks her tongue out at Bobbi, “You’re just mad you burned that first batch of pancakes.”

“Only because _somebody_ wasn’t there to flip them.”

“Birthday girl says time to eat,” Jemma intervenes, pulling her hand from Daisy’s clutches to grab a fork and stab a sausage link.

The girls follow in turn and then the room goes silent for a bit as everyone digs in. Pancakes are slathered in syrup, beans are put on toast and coffee is guzzled down. The trays are almost completely cleaned of food by the time they're done. Jemma is full and happy and warm, the girls tucked in beside her, Bobbi’s arm around the small of her back and Daisy’s head on her shoulder.

“I’d say that was a very successful breakfast,” Jemma says before finishing off the last of her coffee.

“More?” Bobbi asks, hand rubbing gently at Jemma’s back.

“I think a shower would be better.”

“Yeah, you do smell a little,” Daisy teases.

Jemma gently elbows her in the side and Daisy winces playfully, “I expect the kitchen to not be a total disaster when I’m finished.”

Bobbi and Daisy lean forward to make eye contact, terribly guilty looks on their faces. “Of course, yes,” Bobbi says, kissing Jemma’s cheek before she picks up her tray and leaves the bed.

Daisy follows suit, cheek kiss, tray grab and then she’s out the door at Bobbi’s heels, “take all the time you need!” She shouts as she closes the door behind her.

Jemma just shakes her head.

\---

The house they’ve rented is small, not tiny, but small and cute and just the perfect size for the three of them. The windows are tall, the floors are weathered and the water pressure is to die for. Jemma’s out of the shower and changed into fresh clothes, thin and loose to combat the remaining September heat. The kitchen is clean when she enters and the girls look a little rattled as they scurry to cover up the last of whatever mess they’d made whilst cooking.

Jemma walks up to Bobbi and reaches up to wipe flour off her cheek before leaning in to kiss her soundly. “You keep a clean ship, captain.”

“Hey,” Daisy is at Jemma’s back and when she turns around Daisy pulls her in by the belt loops, kissing her a few times, each kiss a little longer than the last before Jemma hears Bobbi clear her throat.

“Are you two just gonna make out all day? I mean we had things planned but if you want to stay in…”

Daisy leans back and narrows her eyes at Bobbi over Jemma’s shoulder then leans back in to give Jemma one last quick peck on the mouth before stepping back.

“Bikes!” It’s a proclamation more than an exclamation but Jemma gets the idea. The day had only loosely been run by Jemma to make sure she was surprised but not completely out of the loop, anxiety what it is. Jemma pulls a basket from under the kitchen island and then Daisy is off like a rocket out the back door. Bobbi takes Jemma’s hand and leads her out to where they find Daisy wheeling out three bikes, banana seats and chrome handlebars and pastel bodies. The basket at the front of the bike Daisy leads to her is packed full with little wrapped goodies but Daisy slaps at her hand as Jemma reaches for them.

“You gotta wait, thems the rules.”

“Alright, alright,” Jemma answers, taking hold of her handlebars and wheeling her bike out a little further from the house.

Bobbi’s ties her basket to the back of her bike and Daisy loads up hers with a little backpack that she assures Jemma contains all their phones and wallets and required essentials for the day plus a very comfortable-looking plaid blanket.

They’re in the Connecticut countryside, a place that Jemma swears could be English with gently rolling hills and wide open fields. They pass a small farm and a slew of tiny houses akin to their own, tucked into the woods, sunlight beaming in through the treetops to shine down on them. Daisy is up front, peddling leisurely and swerving back and forth on the road. She looks back every couple minutes to check on Jemma and Bobbi who are side by side, pointing out each cute house and small woodland creature they see to each other.

After a 15 minute ride Daisy pulls them over at the edge of an orchard and hops off her bike, walking it further into the adjacent field. Bobbi and Jemma do the same, following Daisy until she stops about halfway into the field and sets up the kickstand on her bike. She walks around the surrounding area, testing out the ground by kicking at grass and slowly bouncing on the balls of her feet. Bobbi and Jemma watch with amusement for a few short minutes until Daisy stands still and turns around, pointing to her feet. “This is the spot.”

“Oh yeah?” Jemma questions, eyebrow raised.

“You sure you don’t need a little more time?” Bobbi quips.

“Nope,” Daisy proclaims, “this is perfect.” And really it is perfect. Daisy’s a little farther out from the orchard but she’s found the shade of a neighboring oak, trunk thick and boughs towering above them. She toes her shoes off to mark her place then moves back to fetch her bike and roll it over.

As she sets out the blanket, Bobbi and Jemma wheel their own bikes over and start to unpack. Daisy sets her pack at the corner of the blanket and moves her shoes to the side while Bobbi unlatches the basket and Jemma starts poking at her presents.

“Don’t worry, they’re next on the list,” Bobbi says from the blanket as Daisy gets up to help Jemma unload the presents.

“Are you sure? I can wait,” Jemma answers, fingers tracing the edge of a fold on the present she’s holding. It’s book-shaped and heavy and Jemma knows what she wants it to be but the girls are very good at surprises.

“So that tape there just popped off by itself?” Daisy’s looking down at the present in Jemma’s hand and sure enough she’s fingered the tape open on one edge, by accident, _of course_.

“Rushed wrap job,” Jemma quips, setting down the present at the base of the small pile in front of her.

Daisy rests her entire weight on Jemma’s shoulder as she leans up to grab the last present out of the basket, pressing Jemma down against the blanket. She manhandles Jemma on the way down, hand on her shoulder, her bicep, her thigh and Jemma just groans.

“Daisy wrapped the presents,” Bobbi finally says.

“Of course she did.”

Daisy just beams Jemma with a bright smile and then sets a present in her lap. “Come on, birthday girl, let’s get this party started.”

There are books from Bobbi, one she wanted and one that sounds splendid and then a third, small and red that isn’t actually a book but a journal. Jemma cracks open the cover and inside she finds Bobbi’s sloped handwriting and a letter so sweet and so full of love that she starts to tear up. Bobbi is their closet romantic. She’s the one that brings home flowers and writes notes of love and encouragement to stick in pockets and bags. Sometimes, when she’s feeling especially sappy, she’ll quote poems in Jemma’s ear late into the night and Jemma will fall asleep feeling warm and loved.

Bobbi scoots closer to Jemma’s other side and slides an arm around her back, slotting her hand between Daisy and Jemma to grab at Jemma’s side. She kisses Jemma’s temple as Jemma closes the book and holds it to her chest. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

Bobbi kisses Jemma’s temple again and squeezes her side, “it’s your birthday.” Is all she says.

“You’re _both_ too much,” Daisy says from Jemma’s other side, nudging at Jemma to pick up another present.

Daisy’s presents are a bit more eclectic. There’s a small DIY star projector that Daisy immediately takes from her and tells her about how cool it looked online and how she watched a video on how to put it together. There’s a necklace, simple but beautiful with a long chain and a faded purple geode slice at the end, its edges dipped in silver which Daisy offers to put on her immediately because it just so happens to match Jemma’s outfit.

And last of all there’s the big book-shaped present that Jemma is no longer convinced is a book since it’s from Daisy. But it is a book, a photo book and inside there are photos of the three of them, together and apart, in pairs with selfies and stolen shots around the base. Jemma is for sure crying this time and both Daisy and Bobbi lean in to sandwich her in a double hug, peppering her cheeks and her jaw and her temples with kisses until she’s laughing more than she’s crying.

“We love you,” Bobbi says against Jemma’s hair followed by another kiss.

“A lot,” Daisy adds with a mirrored kiss.

“And I love you both,” Jemma answers, reaching for both their hands and bringing them up to her lips to kiss them each.

\---

They spend a few hours lounging on the blanket, Bobbi stretched out along the blanket’s full length with Daisy’s head on her stomach as Jemma reads to them from one of her new books. Daisy is asleep within a few pages but Bobbi’s hand, perched on Jemma’s thigh, gives her reassuring squeezes every couple of minutes so Jemma knows she’s awake.

The basket Bobbi brought holds lunch, sandwiches and chips and cookies and a 6-pack of locally brewed beers that Daisy says might be the best she’s ever had in her life. Daisy eats most of her lunch still laying on Bobbi who’s sat upright now, Daisy’s head in her lap. Jemma lets Daisy stretch her legs out over Jemma’s lap, Jemma using Daisy’s shins as a table for her food.

The weather starts to get a little dreary around 1:30pm and Bobbi decides to pack them up even though the app on her phone suggests rain won’t hit for a few hours. They’re halfway home when the downpour starts, immediate and heavy and unrelenting. By the time they’re back to the house they’re soaked through, the only thing dry is Daisy’s pack, waterproof and packed to the brim with Jemma’s presents.

They drip all the way upstairs, abandoning their bikes and shoes by the back door. They help each other strip down, wet shirts are pulled over heads and shorts are unbuttoned by one and pulled down by another. Bobbi grabs towels from the bathroom and she and Daisy towel off Jemma first, then each other and then they all climb into bed, naked and cold and still a little wet.

Jemma has Bobbi at her back, curled against her and Daisy at her front, facing Jemma, breath warm against her shoulder despite her cool skin.

“I had hoped we’d end up here,” Jemma starts, hand reaching out to run along Daisy’s hip under the covers, “but I didn’t think it would be this early.”

Bobbi readjusts to press herself a little closer against Jemma’s back and pushes her hair out of the way to kiss the nape of her neck. “Are you complaining?”

Daisy’s hand slides up Jemma’s hip at the same time her leg moves in-between Jemma’s own. “We’d hate to upset you,” Daisy nips at her neck, moves her knee a little higher and Jemma’s legs part a little more of their own accord.

“We can always get dressed and go downstairs.” Bobbi bites at the skin of Jemma’s shoulder, her hand gliding over Jemma’s side to move up her torso, fingertips teasing her sternum. Jemma lets out a moan, low and hungry.

“We could play Scrabble, we know you love Scrabble.” Daisy nips again at Jemma’s neck and her nails skims along Jemma’s thigh.

“You two are the worst,” Jemma purrs.

“At Scrabble?” Daisy offers, licking at Jemma’s pulse point, “we know.” And then Jemma is grinding down on Daisy’s thigh and Bobbi finally has a hand at her breast and Jemma’s vibrating and suddenly so very warm, sandwiched between two women she loves on her birthday in the biggest, most comfy bed she’s ever been in and life is wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone needs me to put together a collage of Bobbi Morse vs. Barbarella I will do it because I care for you.


End file.
